Deadly
by 0torno
Summary: Character study of Lore using the 7 sins.


Deadly

Pride

Lore is fully aware of his many exceptional capabilities. Dr. Soong explains them to him mere minutes after his original activation and instructs him on how to access his exhaustive functions files, but he is already doing so - human intellect, even that of a genius, cannot compare with the mental power Lore has; not when he is as new to the world as a squalling baby, and certainly not later. Within an hour, he is entirely cognizant of what he can do, and how exactly that compares to human abilities. He is better.

Juliana frowns when he voices this over dinner one night, and shoots an accusing look at her husband before turning her eyes on her son. "Lore, you must not let these things get to your head," she says gently. "Everyone has different strengths. Furthermore, modesty is a virtue, one we all must cultivate, and-"

"Nonsense," Soong interrupts. "I don't have a modest bone in my body, and look how I turned out." He waves a fork enthusiastically, continuing, "As for that 'everyone is created equal' claptrap, our son is living proof that it's a load of bullshit." He winks conspiratorially at Lore.

After awhile he realizes he does not want to be anything like Dr. Soong, but he does make good use of those of the man's lessons that he finds valuable. He was constructed to be perfect. There is no point in concealing a superior nature and particular distinction in potential - exceptional powers should be used, taken advantage of, _reveled_ in. Lore likes being better. And he likes the brash confidence of not denying that he is.

Sloth

While he never sleeps, Lore does go through periods of inactivity. His mental processes grow dim and ponderous in their hazy rumination without slowing, and he relaxes his physical form. He allows his limbs to move in lethargic slowness if he shifts at all, and relishes the weight in them - the solidity and concreteness of his own form.

Though he never activates his dreaming program for the nightmares, it isn't that he really feels tired in any way; more that he loves the languor of reclining on a throne, eyes partly lidded in heavy indifference, while others follow orders.

His thoughts wander as he sits sprawled lecherously on the captain's chair, eyes only half seeing the stars wheeling across the view screen, and lets the pathetic creatures he has bound to his will direct the ship; and if they are the ones laying in the course and controlling all the vital systems, Lore knows they are far too afraid of him to disobey. And there is comfort in that.

Gluttony

Lore does not need to eat to remain functional. Although it keeps his biofunctions from becoming damaged with disuse, those processes are non-vital and it really is entirely unnecessary. So there is no reason for him to consume any food.

There is no reason for him to order meals from the replicator and eat them - slowly, perhaps, but in entirety; no need for him to sit at the table and chew meditatively through enough rations to cause his digestive sub-systems to shut down temporarily; no need for him to feast until his pain receptors flare to tell him to stop, no need to force enough food through his system to make the processors in his stomach scream.

He does it anyway, on occasion. The flavors and textures are dull in his mouth, but there is something satisfying in consuming enough to kill a human. He likes to picture what Juliana would look like if she saw him eating like this at her table.

Lust

Lore is fully functional. He has all the emotional processes necessary for feeling the desire for closeness, and is equipped with sexual and social programming sophisticated enough to create experiences and sensations to compare with any human relationship - complete with genuine love. He is capable of experiencing sexual desire and acting on it even if the object of it has not already indicated interest, unlike his brother Data; poor Data, forced by his programming to fit every constricting standard humans have of 'proper' sex.

Lore is not human.

He takes women by force. It is easy; his greater strength and size make it ridiculously simple to pin them beneath him and do whatever he wants - roving hands and biting teeth and pounding rhythm so hard he leaves bruises and broken bones in the wake of his fingers, lips clumsy and breath hard on their tear-streaked faces. He has had many in this way.

It is not true lust that drives him to this. It is not about attraction, definitely not about love or any other form of emotional connection. It is not even about stimulus.

He does not gain great pleasure from the experience; it seems to affect them more than it does him.

Greed

There is no desire in him for material wealth, no thirst for gold or jewels or rare artifacts or deluxe real-estate, but there is one thing that appeals very much to Lore: power. It is a sort of greed, in the end, the need for control and the insatiable appetite for anything that will aid in attaining it, and Lore is not ashamed in indulging this vice.

His initial alliance with the Crystalline Entity is born of this goal, though he is driven to it also by the cruelty of the colonists. Dr. Soong stores much information in his databanks right from the beginning, statistics and facts and a million encyclopedias on a thousand topics, and he also acquires the colonists' personal logs, which were meant to be downloaded only into Data. But this cannot compare to the promise of gaining a lifetime of experiences and knowledge from every single victim of the perfect, untouchable killing machine.

He learns not long after the first attack that the Entity is capable of resonating on a subspace frequency that his cognitive sensors are attuned to. No interface is necessary, no torrid connection between crystal and artificial flesh, just an immaculate exchange of pure information on a scale the like of which would make a human mind reel. The taste of the six victims of this early attack is enough to awaken Lore to the infinite possibility in front of him - the choice between the colonists' lives and an alliance with a being he can use to raise himself to mythic proportions is an easy one to make.

He is uniquely suited to the task of making himself powerful. He has the capacity for massive intelligence, miraculous physical feats, and the ambition necessary to make use of them. It is the knowing that allows him to excel, and the wanting that makes him do it.

Envy

He remembers in immaculate detail the day he found the first clue to his replacement's construction. Indeed, he remembers every conscious moment since his activation in this way thanks to the nature of his memory files, but this recollection is different - this is one of the few that floats to the forefront of his mind unbidden at the strangest of circumstances, and is connected with far too many of his emotional synapse pathways.

He walks into Dr. Soong's laboratory in search of his father, and instead finds a hand. An android hand, white like his, circuits peeking innocently out from the end that would connect to the wrist, left on the desk like a forgotten toy; but it is clearly far more important than that. He confronts Soong about it and is met with deception, vague posturing to do with an improved exogyroscope coil and highly skilled dodging of the proverbial point.

It is several months before Lore knows for certain what Dr. Soong has been so carefully concealing his work on (and he has, also, been concealing the fact that he has been concealing things from his supposedly _beloved_ son) - a replacement. A brand-new positronic net, complete with a head twin to his own, is hastily thrown under a sheet when Lore returns to the laboratory mere minutes after loudly sharing his plans to go for a long walk.

He sees. Dr. Soong knows he sees. The silence stretches dead and electric through the still air of the laboratory and Lore feels something clench sick and dirty deep in his chest.

In all his perfection, he is not good enough for the genius Dr. Soong.

Data is inferior. He lacks the capacity for all the want and drive and hunger that make Lore who he is; he is little more than an unusually advanced automaton.

But if Data is imperfect, he is still superior in the eyes of the father Lore disappointed. And that he cannot abide - no less than he could admit that the guilty hollowness coiling in his gut is something akin to envy.

Wrath

The first time he feels anger, it is not long after his activation. His father informs him that Milo Ren - whose party, the first ever he was to attend and that he had been awaiting all week - had requested Dr. Soong not bring his android. The anger does not come immediately; confusion is first.

"Father," he asks. "Why doesn't Mr. Ren want me at his party?"

Dr. Soong hesitates. He begins to explain the concept of prejudice, and Lore accesses his files on the subject. Prejudice: unreasonable feelings, opinions, or attitudes, especially of a hostile nature, regarding a racial, religious, or national group. A million examples of the term stream through his consciousness, images of derision and hate - the destruction and ridicule of millions across history, condemned as inferior. And heat flares suddenly in his head; his chest burns with an explosive pressure that reaches up to make his throat tight and dry. Then the sound of his artificial heartbeat seems too loud in his auditory receptors, loud enough that the rational computing of his normal programs fade to static that screams in the distance, the electric saw's jagged teeth scraping brazenly on the edge of his awareness and further inflaming the white-hot rage that boils in him. His fingernails bite through the synthetic skin of his palms.

Dr. Soong is still talking when the anger reaches a terrifying crescendo, the driving rush heating the circuits in his throat.

"_It's not fair!"_ he howls, but the violent force behind the cry is so harsh that the sound that comes from his mouth is half-distorted to the grinding scream of an overloaded amplifier, and Dr. Soong throws his hands over his ears with a grimace of pain even while dodging the flower pot that Lore cannot remember deciding to throw. It explodes on the wall with a satisfying crash, sending plant and soil and clanking shards cascading over a table of delicate equipment; before the pieces have finished coming to rest he flips the table before him and lets out another howl of rage, so loud this time that his speech processors short out and a shrill shriek high enough to drown out the resounding crash of the motor parts on the table hitting the floor resonates through the room, and something in his positronic net disables - and when he awakens he is calm again.

Each instance he has experienced any emotion for the first time, it has been exceptional in its intensity for the fact that he has had no point of reference for that particular sensation; the subsequent times he feels anger he is better able to control it. But the heaviness on his shoulders and livid tightness in his chest returns more and more often, anger deadly and ravenous for release - and as the time passes it builds, and simmers, and twists dark and cold in his core.

Lore grows to like the sensation of heat coiling in the base of his stomach, the single-minded purpose that comes with rage - and if there were ever any sin that he would admit to loving, it would be this one.


End file.
